


Riding High

by HarryJ96



Series: Time After Time [3]
Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wisdom Teeth, featuring high!christen and soft!tobin, girlfriends being cute, my attempt at humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27051484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarryJ96/pseuds/HarryJ96
Summary: Christen has her wisdom teeth removed and is a handful for Tobin.
Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Series: Time After Time [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949536
Comments: 15
Kudos: 139





	Riding High

You weren’t supposed to wait until you were nearly thirty to have your wisdom teeth removed. 

Really, you should have had them out a decade ago. Yet here you are—twenty-nine years old and blinking open groggy eyes after emergency oral surgery to remove an infected tooth, along with your three other wisdom teeth. 

Your bleary eyes land on the figure of your best friend, sitting next to you on a small metal stool and typing on her...you can’t remember what it’s called...the thing you use to call people. Her brown hair shines prettily, even under the unforgiving fluorescent lights of the procedure room. 

“Hi,” you croak around a mouthful of gauze. You cough slightly. Her head snaps up and her eyes brighten when she sees you’re awake. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” she says, reaching for your hand. _She called you sweetheart_ , you think giddily, giving her hand a happy squeeze. “How are you feeling?” she continues. You ignore her question and just stare at her. Gosh, she really is beautiful. All tan skin and pearly smiles and big, soulful brown eyes. After a while, she seems to squirm under your heavy gaze. “Everything okay?” she asks. 

“You’re so pretty. I love your hair,” you whisper reverently. She blushes and smiles bashfully.

“Thank you,” she replies. “You are very pretty as well.”

“Do you wanna go on a date with me?” you ask hopefully. Now she throws her head back and laughs heartily. You scowl at her. You don’t get what’s so funny. 

“Babe, we’re already girlfriends,” she explains through her giggles. 

“I know that,” you shoot back. You don’t know that. Well, you’d forgotten for a minute, but now you remember. She’s your girlfriend and she’s _super_ pretty and you love her a lot. 

“I love you a lot,” you tell her. She reaches out and strokes her hand through your curls. 

“I love you a lot too,” she murmurs. You hum contentedly, then close your eyes and let yourself drift back to sleep. 

The next thing you know, her hand is on your leg, gently shaking you awake. You crack one eye open to glare at her. 

“’m sleeping,” you grumble. She smiles apologetically. 

“I know, hon. I’m sorry, but we gotta go home now. You can sleep some more in the car, okay?” She helps you slowly to your feet. You lean on her heavily and she wraps an arm around your waist to support you as you teeter precariously toward the car. 

After she buckles you in, you reach for the aux cord, struggling with it slightly as you try to plug it into your phone ( _that’s_ what it’s called!). She takes the phone from you and plugs it in herself. “What do you want to listen to, baby?” she inquires. 

“Aaron Burr, sir.” 

“The _Hamilton_ soundtrack?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Alright. Coming right up,” she says, tapping on your phone and then turning up the volume. She adjusts the rearview mirror and backs out of the parking lot. You turn your head and stare at her for a bit as she drives. She’s so pretty and she looks so cute the way she pokes her tongue out of the corner of her mouth in concentration. 

“I think I might be gay,” you blurt out randomly. She chuckles quietly.

“Okay,” she says, “that’s okay.” You think about it for a minute. 

“I’m a girl, and you’re a girl, and we’re girlfriends together so that means I’m gay,” you explain. 

“I mean, technically you could also be bi,” she remarks.

“Bye-bye?”

“Bisexual.”

“Oh.” You’re a little confused and your head feels hazy, plus you’re not really sure what you were talking about to begin with. Also, you’re hungry.

“I’m hungry,” you announce. 

“Okay,” she says. “You wanna stop and get a milkshake or something?”

“No. French fries.” 

“Oh honey,” she says, “you can’t have French fries. Not until your mouth heals a little bit.” Your eyes fill with tears. She never says no when you ask for fries. 

“Why are you being mean to me?” you sniffle, wiping clumsily at your face. 

“I’m sorry,” she says heartfully. “How about a smoothie from Jamba Juice? I know how much you love those.” 

“Fine,” you mutter sullenly. She nods, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel. A couple minutes later, she pulls into the strip mall by your apartment. “Okay babe, what kind of smoothie do you want?” she asks. 

“Mango Mango.” 

“Mega Mango?”

“Yeah. That’s what I said,” you retort. She giggles and you frown at her.

“You got it, babe!” she says cheerfully, then hops out of the car to grab your drink, whistling quietly to herself. You rest your head back against the carseat and close your eyes. _I’ll just rest until she comes back_ , you think, _just for a minute._

Suddenly you’re back at your apartment and she’s opening the car door for you, clutching a smoothie in one hand and holding out her other hand for you to take. You ignore the hand and reach out, plucking the smoothie from her grip. Then you step out of the car on your own and stagger toward the lobby of your apartment building. She catches up to you quickly. 

“Watch out, we’ve got some steps here,” she warns. 

“I _know_ ,” you snap, “I’m not _stupid_.” You don’t know why you say it like that. You’re not actually annoyed at her, not at all. No harm done, it seems, as she just chuckles and shrugs, then says,

“Okay, okay. Just making sure.” 

You plant your left foot and grip the handrail. Very, very slowly, you heave yourself up onto the first step. It feels like the ground is tilting and you sway woozily. 

“Whoa there! You okay?” She steadies you with a hand on your back. You turn on the step and lift your arms out to her. She understands the gesture immediately and picks you up, settling you on her hip like a toddler. You wrap your arms around her neck and rest your head on her shoulder. “All set?” she asks. You nod against her collarbone and she carries you up the rest of the stairs. The ground continues to tilt dizzyingly, so you squeeze your eyes shut, not opening them until she has you inside your apartment and settled on the couch in a nest of blankets. 

She shuffles into the kitchen and comes back a moment later with your smoothie, a silver spoon, and a pile of napkins. “Here’s your smoothie, sweetheart,” she says, setting it down in front of you. “You’re not supposed to drink out of a straw so I got you a spoon.”

“Thanks!” you say brightly, reaching for your drink. You pick up a big spoonful of smoothie and bring it up to your face. You’re still numb from the local anesthetic and you struggle to locate your mouth. You misjudge slightly and knock yourself on the tooth. Wincing, you let out a frustrated huff and plop the spoon back into the cup, shoving it away from you. 

“What’s wrong?” she questions. 

“I can’t feel my mouth,” you whine, pouting at her.

“Can I help?” she asks sweetly. You hang your head, blushing. “Sweetheart,” she says with a soft hand on your knee, “sweetie, it’s okay. Let me help you.” You nod and hand her the cup and the spoon. She digs out a bite of smoothie and holds it up to your lips, then tilts your head up with two gentle fingers under your chin. You open your mouth for her and she places the spoon on your tongue. “Okay, close,” she instructs. You close your lips around the spoon and she pulls it out gently. You swallow the bite. It really is delicious. Mega Mango was a good choice. 

“Yummy,” you mumble, and a little bit of smoothie dribbles out of your mouth. 

“Oops,” she mutters, catching your drool with a napkin before it drips onto your collar. She grabs another napkin from the pile and unfolds it, then tucks into the neck of your shirt. 

“Here comes the airplane!” She grins cheekily, holding up another bite of smoothie. You glare at her. 

“’m not a baby,” you grumble. She chuckles and winks at you, then holds the bite up to your mouth. You take it eagerly in your lips, humming happily at the sugary-sweet taste. You continue like this for another several minutes, pausing occasionally for her to wipe at your chin with a napkin. By the time you’re done with the smoothie, your eyes are heavily lidded, head lolling slightly to one side. 

“Go to bed,” you mumble sleepily. 

“Ah, we need to change the gauze in your mouth first.” You start to cry. 

“No. Bed,” you insist tearfully. She dabs at your eyes with the sleeve of her shirt and kisses your forehead. 

“Just a couple more minutes, baby.” She disappears for a second, then comes back with fresh gauze. “Open wide,” she requests. You open your mouth as wide as it will go. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to ignore the dry, bitter taste of cotton. She makes quick work of the task, then helps you to lay back across the couch. She tucks you in under a mound of blankets. You feel warm and very cozy. 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you mumble, already half-asleep. 

“I’ll always take care of you,” she responds, taking your hand and giving it a loving squeeze. You squint your eyes half-open, peeking at her through your eyelashes. 

“Promise?” you croak out. 

“Yeah, baby. I promise.” At that your eyes flutter closed and you succumb to sleep quickly, feeling safe and so, so loved. 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, let me know what y'all think! :)


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